Posted 1:35 AM by sport

It has been suggested that I might start one of these weblogs in order to post the various rants I sometimes send to everyone on my email list. The advantage is obvious to the people in my address book: no more batch mails from me. To me, it's dubious. For one thing, the ephemeral nature of email works in my favor as far as redundancies are concerned; some journalists have noted this in forewords to their collected pieces. Pet phrases and overused words are less obvious when previous messages have long been swooshed down the virtual crapper. This kind of thing might provoke an anxiety to actually write with care and discipline, two things I've avoided all my life. Zounds!

Another issue is whether there's any point to this at all. Who the hell cares what I think about anything? Well, if nothing else, my life has been devoted to pointless self-expression, and the Internet is peculiarly suited to such pathological vanity. Here, I am amongst my own: anonymous cranks, dilettantes, and obsessives. The Jetsam Set. Right now I'm trying to figure out how to set up the web page Kill Rock Stars is hosting for me (sportmurphy dot com - which I spell out instead of correctly typing in order to discourage spambots) but that will principally serve as a kool-aid stand for my music, and anyway I can link from there to this blog once it's up. Email may be sent to sport @ sportmurphy dot com (ditto) - effective immediately - for anyone who doesn't have my regular email address.

So. A public diary. Lord help us. May most of it consist of blithe schussing down the slopes of schtick, but naturally there will be less entertaining entries. Today's news of note is that I received the box of UNCLE (the new album) discs from KRS. I wistfully recall how it felt to open the first crates of the previous KRS cds, WILLOUGHBY and MAGIC BEANS. Willoughby was best because of the potential it held and the accomplishment it represented, going from vanity pressing to national release on a noted label. Opening Magic Beans was great too, because it was (and remains) my proudest achievement in music. It turned out to be a dud, rejected by listeners who'd liked Willoughby and ignored by almost everyone else. I'll tell the lie that I didn't care, since I'm shit-sure that you don't.

Then of course, September 11 arrived. My nephew Peter died that morning, and all of that stopped mattering to me until we decided to make an album for him. I'm not sure of the proportion of factors explaining my near indifference to opening this crate, but a lot of things figure in. Let's hope I am by now cauterized enough to gracefully endure Uncle's probable quick trip to oblivion after the January 21 release. For Pete, I hope that it's something he'd have liked, at least in part. For KRS, I hope some sentimental indulgence on the part of press / radio inspires enough units sold to justify the release. For me, I hope I can seize one of these transient moments when the old excitement about making songs returns, and ride it through to some new stuff.

For you, I hope the subsequent entries are a lot more entertaining than this.
Cheers.